


Waiting It Out

by LilacCrocuta



Series: Medieval Septiplier [19]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, M/M, Protective Sean McLoughlin, Protective Tyler, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacCrocuta/pseuds/LilacCrocuta
Summary: King Mark has been kidnapped.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin
Series: Medieval Septiplier [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681588
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	Waiting It Out

**_CRACK!_ **

The whip came down harshly, slicing neatly across the cheek of its victim, as the man knelt before its owner, hands tied tightly behind his back. 

King Mark grit his teeth at the sharp, painful sensation, but even as blood trickled down his face, he lifted his chin to see his torturer's face again. The night had been rough for him thus far--yet again, some lowly bag of scum had made the effort of trekking all the way to his castle, purely for the sole purpose of harming him or worse.

However, this particular man had managed to capture the king, which was something few men had done in Youtubia's history. 

The man in question wasn't exactly on the attractive side. He had a round, pudgy face, a bald spot, several warts on his hands, and he was missing a few of his yellowed teeth. His eyes seemed to radiate malice and hatred every time he looked down upon the restrained king at his feet. The room they were currently in seemed to be a sort of dungeon, made of moldy, gray brick and housing a few rats if the occasional squeaking was anything to go by. 

"Does that hurt, your royal highness?" The torturer sneered out, squatting lower to feign a bowing stance. "Oh that's right--"

With a sharp jerk of his arm, the whip struck Mark across the same cheek with another harsh crack, and the king narrowly bit back a hiss, shutting his eyes for a moment to mask the pain before opening them again. 

"You're not quite  _ used  _ to pain, now are you?"

The raven haired man lifted his gaze to meet the other's, keeping his chin high. "I know what pain is." He retorted. "A few cuts on my face are noth--"

**_CRACK!_ ** The whip came down a third time, ripping into a spot near his temple, opposite the first few wounds. Mark grunted through clenched teeth, but kept his breathing steady and his stance as relaxed as he could. There was warmth trickling down his face from all over, but he did his best to brush it off and focused on the man in front of him.

"Why are you doing this? Out of jealousy? " The question seemed to hit a nerve, and he internally braced himself for another strike across the face, but kept speaking. "I am a considerate king. I do not look down upon those who have less wealth or fortune than I do. If you need my help, you need only ask for it." 

The torturer was silent for a few moments, but then curled his lip. "No, you won't help me. Why trust the word of someone who spends their days in a golden palace, lounging away with their friends and ignoring the people beneath him?" His whipping arm twitched, but as it did, a knock on the thick oak doors nearby alerted both men. He huffed. "Come in."

Mark watched in silence as the doors slowly creaked open, and five men entered the room, all of them dressed in long, black cloaks with hoods that hung over their faces. Two of them were average height, but the other three nearly reached the ceiling, only adding to their ominous appearance. He didn't flinch, but he knew deep down what those hooded outfits typically meant. 

As if reading his thought process, the torturer smiled at the king in a way that could've curdled milk. "My faithful executioners…" 

Mark clenched his jaw, as his adversary glanced at the tallest executioner just behind him. "Do what you'd like with him. But make it slow."

The king turned his gaze to the hooded man, who...just stood there. Silently.

The torturer frowned. "Well, what are you waiting for?" He gestured to Mark. "Take him!" 

There was a brief silence that filled the room, but it was abruptly broken by the rustling of cloth that came from the executioner swiftly reaching up and yanking his hood down to reveal his face. The man underneath the hood was very familiar to him, the handsome face, bright blue eyes and curly brunet hair recognizable anywhere. 

Mark had never recalled seeing Sir Tyler look so utterly  _ furious. _

In a fraction of a second, his fellow knight had the assailant by his throat and was slamming him up against one of the moldy stone walls, his whole body trembling with rage and blue eyes blazing like fire as the other four "executioners" removed their disguises as well. Almost as one, they flocked to Mark, with Ethan using his cloak to dab at the king's bleeding face, while Wade used a hidden dagger to cut the ropes holding his wrists together. Bob stood nearby, eyes on the doorway and sword at his hip, and Seán was falling to his knees in front of his love, grasping at his hands as soon as they were free.

"Remember, you can maim him as much as you'd like," the smallest knight reminded Tyler over his shoulder. "But don't kill him. We still have to haul him back home for questioning."

Tyler didn't look back at them, but nodded once.  _ "That can most certainly be arranged."  _ His voice was a low, venomous snarl. 

With a breath of relief, Mark squeezed Seán's trembling hands back as his love audibly forced down a sob, staring into his eyes.  _ "Are ye okay?" _

"I'm alright, my clover. I'm just…a bit tired." Mark smiled as confidently as he could, even though he felt the exhaustion of that evening catching up to him. 

"That would be the blood loss, I think." Ethan piped up from the king's right, before glancing over at Wade and Bob. "Are we all set to leave?"

"I believe so." Sir Bob confirmed, with a cautious peek outside the dungeon. He looked over his shoulder and nodded once. "The hallway is clear. Let's get out of this place."

"Right, then." Seán agreed, gently hooking an arm around Mark's own to help him up with Ethan. "Wade, see to it that that bastard doesn't get loose. I'm gonna have some  _ words  _ to exchange with him once we're home." He spat over his shoulder.

And as the king leaned comfortably against his love's shoulder, the group made their way out of that horrid place and to the safety of the two carriages, where Lady Evelyn awaited them inside the more decorated one, and Sir Patrick and Sir Gar met Wade and Tyler halfway at the second one.

The ride home was smooth and quiet, and despite the pain that came from having the cuts on his face washed and bandaged on the way to the palace, King Mark had never felt more comfortable, because he was sitting next to the man he loved and holding his hand once again.

Seán on the other hand, was too busy beating himself up to notice that at first.

"I shoulda' known somethin' would happen. Damnit, why'd I leave that window open? It coulda' been so much worse than--"

"Seán…" Mark murmured out, getting his fretting lover's attention right away. "It's alright. I'm okay now. There's no use in worrying about it anymore."

The Irishman sniffled, but returned the squeeze to his hands that Mark gave him. "Ye say that like ye weren't scared at all." He noted, concern making his eyes glisten in the moonlight. "Were ye scared?"

Mark smiled at the question and shook his head. "No." He answered honestly. "Because I knew you would come for me."

If Seán started sobbing quietly, Evelyn was kind enough to never mention it, and politely looked away as the two men passionately kissed beside her. 


End file.
